Birthday Wishes
by protectthesandwich
Summary: For his eighth birthday Fitz got a truck. The wrapping was sloppy, with parts of the wheels poking through, and the wrapping paper was covered with snowflakes and snowmen. When his mum gave it to him before breakfast, it was with an apologetic smile and a hair ruffle. A series of Fitzsimmons' birthdays, together and apart.
1. Apart

**Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of Shield**

* * *

For his eighth birthday Fitz got a truck. The wrapping was sloppy, with parts of the wheels poking through, and the wrapping paper was covered with snowflakes and snowmen. When his mum gave it to him before breakfast, it was with an apologetic smile and a hair ruffle.

The truck wasn't new, he could tell, and the front right wheel was about to come off. But it was red like he had wanted, and his mum was looking at him, all anxious, and he beamed at her just to see the expression melt away.

When his father stumbled into the kitchen he saw Fitz with his new fire truck and stopped. He stared at the truck in surprise and then glanced at Fitz's mum to confirm. To his credit his father recovered quickly, leading a half-hearted round of happy birthday.

Fitz knew his father had forgotten his birthday, he wasn't _stupid_, but he didn't mind because his father was asking if he wanted to go to the park after school and his mum was making pancakes and he was finally, _finally eight_.

That night, when he couldn't sleep because there was fits of shouting (his father) and screeching (his mum) from the bedroom next to his, he focussed solely on his fire truck. He had managed to sneak a screwdriver into his room and he was certain he could fix it, if he could just take it apart. Make it _better_ even.

He didn't get much sleep that night, but the fire truck was no longer broken.

* * *

Simmons woke up on her eighth birthday to a chorus of happy birthday. Her younger brother leaped onto her bed and enthusiastically helped her unwrap the presents. Her daddy was holding a video camera which he shoved in her face each time she held each new present to forever capture the exact look of wonder on her face.

She doesn't need to fake it, like she did last year when Aunty Emily gave her a book she'd already read. Her mum had whispered _smile _through clenched teeth and pushed Simmons forward to thank her Aunt. Simmons had put on her widest, most brilliant smile and thought she was doing so well until her brother had laughed hysterically when she passed saying she looked like a clown.

She got that new chemistry set like she wanted, and some new hair ties, and multi-coloured pens _and_ a new book. Her daddy said she could have whatever she wanted on her waffles even though they all knew it would end up in an explosion of chocolate and sprinkles as she experimented to find the perfect topping.

Later, she sat up until way past her bedtime, reading, until her mum came to tuck her in and wished her the very best of birthdays.

* * *

By the time they'd reached his ninth birthday, Fitz hadn't seen his father for 2 months, 10 days and approximately 8 hours and 57 minutes. He'd been counting. His father left two weeks before Christmas. There had been yelling, frantic packing and a bang of the door. Fitz had covered his ears and recited the 16 times tables loudly to himself. He lost count around 16 x 54 but by then it was silent anyway.

Christmas had been cancelled.

But today was his birthday. And his father would come back for that, right? He was sitting at the table eating cereal in silence with his mother. All he could hear was the clock ticking.

Fitz stared at the door. If he wished hard enough, if he wanted it enough he could probably make his father appear there. Shutting his eyes tight he ignored his cereal dripping off his spoon and the sound of his mother getting up. If he kept his eyes close, if Fitz pictured him in doorway well enough, he could fix this. His father would be back for his birthday.

'Leo?' He opened his eyes. His father wasn't there. The doorway remained empty.

Instead he saw his mother holding out his present.

'Happy birthday.'

As he hugged her as tightly as he could manage she smiled for the first time in 2 months, 10 days and approximately 9 hours and 3 minutes.

He always was more of a believer in the facts anyway.

* * *

Simmons' ninth birthday was a Thursday. For the first nine years of her life this would have meant nothing to her. One of the many advantages of being home-schooled was that you, your mum and your brother could spontaneously take the day off and just make up the work a different day.

Unfortunately, ever since her mother had decided that Simmons' constant curiosity and ever-growing knowledge was too much for her too handle, Thursdays meant something different.

School.

It wasn't that Simmons disliked school exactly. She liked the teachers, the lessons, the equipment and she _loved _the homework. It was just that when all the kids were two or three years older than her it was difficult to be inconspicuous.

They called her Al. As in Albert. As in Einstein. And it wasn't like she minded; it's just that that wasn't her name.

Simmons heard her mum calling and briefly entertained the idea of pretending to be ill. But that would mean missing Biology, and they were supposed to be doing anti biotic factors which she really didn't want to miss.

She made her way downstairs and her family gathered around her, immediately starting to belt out Happy Birthday. Her daddy showed her the cupcakes he'd made for her to take to school, in the style of the periodic table and Simmons grinned.

Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

It was unfortunate that the letter came the same day as Fitz's twelfth birthday. He had thought the teacher had been joking when he said that a letter would be sent home for something as trivial as being caught in a lab at lunch time, but obviously not.

He was waiting for the bacon to finish whilst his mum worked on the eggs when there was the familiar clang of the letterbox. And there it was, right on top of the pile.

His mum started to open it and Fitz tried to choke out an explanation, but then settled for staring at the bacon.

'Oh, Leo.' Fitz could see the tears in her eyes and snatched the letter out of her hand.

It can't have been that bad, surely. He was just messing about with a split ring commutator. What if he was expelled? What if they had to move? What was his mum going to think – getting kicked out at barely twelve years old?

He stared at the piece of paper. Phrases like 'excellent scientist', 'top of the class', 'summer programmes' and 'bright future' jumped out at him. He turned around and his mum hugged him hard.

'I'm so proud of you.' She whispered in his ear.

The bacon burnt.

* * *

Simmons had decided that she wanted to make her own birthday cake. She was turning twelve and it was about time she learnt to do this sort of thing for herself. She had decided on lemon, because that was more grown-up than chocolate, and the recipe looked easier.

Then she found out the baking wasn't _exactly_ like chemistry. Less room for experimentation, it appeared.

It was ridiculous. Why couldn't you add more sugar than strictly necessary? Surely that would just make it sweeter? And when all your sugar ran out, why couldn't you just compensate with more flour and a pinch of syrup? It was baffling.

After four failed attempts, several close calls with the fire alarm and refusing help no less than seven times, Simmons had her cake.

So what if she had to cut off the crusts? Or that it was sunken in the middle? And now that she thought about it, maybe that colour wasn't quite right…

With her family sitting down, including her grandmother who had made the trip from Yorkshire, Simmons put the cake on the table and collapsed into her chair. She glared defiantly at everyone, daring them to say something.

'Make a wish, Jems.' her mother told her lighting the candles.

* * *

On Fitz's fifteenth birthday, his mother went overboard. He'd been taking extra classes, and skipping years and she was terrified that next year he would be at university, unable to spend his birthday with her.

Waking him up far earlier than should be allowed, they made the trip down to London to go to the Science Museum. They wandered around the exhibits and Fitz tried to explain some of them to his mum, but gave up when she asked him to remind her on what exactly an electron was.

They had a video about the first chimpanzee sent into space, which Fitz watched a total of four times. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head.

'If I just could get a monkey…'

Exhausted they went to a hotel that Fitz's mum had booked and when telling her goodnight he thanked for the best birthday he'd ever had. She had just smiled.

* * *

Simmons' fifteenth birthday came as somewhat of a surprise. She'd been so busy lately with university applications, and science fairs and watching old episodes of Doctor Who, that she hadn't realised time was going so quickly.

It wasn't until her younger brother asked her what she wanted that she remembered.

She spent the day doing things she hadn't done in a while. Like taking a long walk with her mum to discuss books. And building a fort with her brother, finding the perfect structure needed for it to stay upright. Simmons watched her daddy make his famous brownies, whilst covering every surface with sugar, and letting her lick the spoon.

For her birthday, Simmons slowed down. Who knew when she would be able to do all these things again?

* * *

On his seventeenth birthday, Fitz met Simmons.

* * *

**A/N: **This was written trying to put off revising for a geography exam. Which I now have to do, darn it. I love agents of SHIELD, especially the Fitzsimmons scenes. Just a quick comment about the time a train takes from Scotland to London, I'm estimating about 6 hours, which puts them there around lunch time. I also went back and forth on whether to call them Fitz and Simmons or Leo and Jemma but eventually decided on this.

So, if you like it, hate it, think they're too smart or too dumb, if you think its too over-dramatic or don't know why I spent 200 words on Simmons baking a cake, if you think it would be better if... Let me know in the reviews.

This is meant to be in past tense but if there's a slip up I'm really sorry.


	2. Together

**Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of Shield**

* * *

On Fitz's seventeenth birthday his life altered. Not noticeably. Not yet.

He'd seen her around, of course. It was almost impossible to miss the girl who was the only one younger than him by barely two months, who was in most of his classes, and whose accent defined her as English.

He'd been expecting a challenge at the Academy, looking forward to it, even. And there was the red-haired woman who rivalled his knowledge in certain areas of applied mechanics, and that tall boy who was slightly quicker when it came to Taylor's series, but no-one annoyed him quite as much as _her._

It wasn't because she was younger than him, or that she excelled in chemistry (which he had never quite grasped like physics), it was that she made it seem so effortless.

She never mumbled when offering an answer in class.

She never looked anything other than put together when the rest of them were still trying to wake up.

She never seemed stressed or worried, nothing fazed her.

But today, the annoyance increased to a maximum.

He was yawning, because his mum forgot about the time difference again and called at 4 in the morning to wish him a happy birthday. He was frustrated because he got question 11 wrong, and for the life of him he can't remember what the correct answer was. And she was sitting in front of him with her stupid prefect posture and perfect notes and perfect score.

After class, he ran after her, determined that something good would come of this. He deserved that much on his birthday.

'What did you get for question 11?' he blurted, breathing heavily because, damn it, fitness wasn't one of his strong points. Although knowing her, she probably ran every day or something equally ridiculous.

'Sorry?' Unfailing polite, her eyes were narrowed in confusion.

Fitz kicked himself. 'Fitz.' He said offering his hand which she ignored because her hands were full, so he stuffed it back in his pocket and kicked himself again. He didn't say Leo, because this was strictly work, and he was half hoping she'd heard of him.

'Last names? Simmons.'

'What did you get for question 11?'

* * *

Simmons was finally seventeen, and nothing was going to ruin this day for her.

Especially not that _imbecile_ Fitz.

She had woken up extra early to treat herself to a full breakfast and had had an extra-long conversation with her mum during lunch. It was turning out to be a good day, birthday worthy even, but now she had to go and check on Fitz.

Ever since their abrupt meeting a few months ago, he'd kept his distance, and she had kept hers. Although she would never admit it, she was a tad jealous of the Scottish scientist. Wherever she went she heard his name mentioned, either complaining that he'd outshone everyone in a class again, or muttering about his latest idea.

No-one ever whispered about her.

And then some senile Professor Hall had decided it would be a good idea to shove them together for one of the biggest projects of the year. Everyone was expecting something mind-blowing, the pressure was pilling, and they might have pulled it off if Fitz would just _work_ already.

He'd deemed the topic boring and unnecessary in their first study session and left soon after, leaving her to sort through the books. It was due in two weeks and in her original time plan they were supposed to be adding finishing touches.

She _wasn't_ supposed to be trudging through the pouring rain to get to her partner's dorm room, so she could try and convince him to at least start writing.

Simmons didn't bother knocking, because he never heard her and the first day she had ended up waiting twenty minutes for him to open the door.

Fitz glanced up from his desk at the sound, looking only mildly surprised. Simmons was fairly sure she was the only one who visited his room.

And it showed. Clambering over laundry and the odd spanner or screwdriver, Simmons made her way to largest pile of papers and started going through it. She was looking for a sign of work done on the project, and instead saw dozens of designs for new technology, some only half finished and most covered in tea stains.

'It's over there.' Fitz pointed across the room, where a thin wad of paper lay on top of his chest of drawers. 'Did it last night.'

Simmons grabbed the pile and started shuffling through them. There was _no way_ he did this in one night. And it was true his handwriting was nearly illegible and he had a tendency to miss out words, but it was good. Better than good, it was brilliant.

'Oh, and there's some waffles if you want them. Strawberries and cream.' Fitz offered her the plate without looking at her, 'Happy birthday.'

Simmons took it.

* * *

It was his nineteenth birthday and Fitz was terrified. He'd told Simmons that he had never been big on birthday parties as a child, and although she understood completely (like always), he'd seen the flash of determination on her face.

Over the last week or so, when casually mentioning his birthday he had carefully monitored her reaction. It ranged from forced nonchalance to a look of slight panic.

By the time the day dawned he was almost certain. Simmons was throwing him a party.

He had been busy all day demonstrating a new invention to a professor and by the time he was standing outside his door it was already getting dark, giving her plenty of time to set up. Fitz took a deep breath. He wasn't very good at social interactions, and in his tiny room everything was bound to be far too cramped. Although he would've much rather just collapsed onto his bed, he wanted to make an effort. For Simmons.

Hoping she had had the sense to clear away his gathering collection of dirty mugs, and plastering a smile on his face, Fitz opened the door. Shoving the balloons out of his way he found that his room was empty.

There was a cake on his desk and balloons _everywhere_ but the only person he could see was Simmons. She was sitting on his bed fiddling with her hands and wearing a ridiculous luminous green party hat.

'I really wanted to throw you your first birthday party,' she said looking at him wirily, 'I ordered a cake, and bought balloons and even managed not to tell you. But it turns out I forgot about the invitations.'

Fitz can't help but laughing at that. Perfect Simmons, with her lists and notes and obsessive cleanliness had forgotten about the most important aspect of a party. He sat down next to her on his bed, if nothing else; his room was spotless for the first time since he'd moved in.

'I wasn't sure who to invite anyway,' Simmons continued. 'None of the professors would've come and you're not speaking to the engineering lot after the fight about who the best Doctor was.'

It was true. Fitz would stand by Tom Baker until the end of time and space, even if it meant ignoring his engineering classmates. After he and Simmons had spent more and more time together, other friends had become somewhat superfluous.

It was better with just them anyway.

'Best first birthday party ever.' He told her and jumped up to cut the cake.

* * *

For the first time, Simmons was alone on her birthday. She was turning nineteen, and had convinced her parents that she would be just fine spending her birthday alone in America. Besides, she wouldn't be alone, she would have Fitz.

And then she didn't.

A week before, when they'd been planning a birthday of watching back-to-back episodes of Star Trek with buckets of Ben and Jerry's cookie dough, Fitz had had a phone call.

His mum was ill. He flew to Scotland two days later.

It was unfortunate, she admitted, but there was no way she was going to throw a hissy fit when he was in a worried frenzy about his mother. So, she had helped him pack, told him she would be just fine and asked him to call her when he landed.

Simmons wasn't regretting it, but there was no denying she was lonely.

It was quiet without Fitz. Really, oddly, deafeningly silent.

She had already copied out her notes for him, and followed up on notes for the classes that they didn't have together. She had cleaned her room, and phoned her brother and now she was left seeing how many times she could spin in her chair without feeling sick.

She could go to the Boiler Room, but she didn't feel like drinking, or dancing or making small talk, really. Plus she wouldn't really know anyone there. No-one would wish her happy birthday, because no-one would know.

She could do her homework, but that was too depressing to do as a birthday activity, even for her (and she'd already finished it all. And started on Fitz's).

So she ended up watching TV and eating ice-cream alone.

The phone rang. Fitz. _Finally._

* * *

Fitz's twenty-first birthday was quiet. Simmons had tried to convince him to go out, and Fitz had countered with staying in and working on his new idea for a tranquilizer rifle. Simmons had offered to make pancakes and it was quickly agreed upon as a fool proof compromise.

He was making his way back to his and Simmons' new apartment from picking up golden syrup when he heard it.

'Fitzsimmons!'

The nickname wasn't new but it was usually applied to him and Simmons together. One of their professors had started calling them that and it had spread so quickly Fitz was almost convinced it had been planned as part of an elaborate prank. He was getting twitchy waiting for the big reveal.

Fitz turned around. It was that guy from Simmons' organic chemistry class. What was his name? Robert? Richard? Ronald?

Fitz panicked. 'Hey… chap.'

'Hi, Fitzsimmons.'

'Just Fitz.'

'Ok…' Rupert looked at him a little oddly but then decided to ignore it. 'Could you give these to your sister for me?' He held out a sheet.

'What?' He didn't have a sister. Why would Ryan think he had a sister?

'Your sister. You know. Clever, pretty, does Chemistry with me? You live together? Dude, it's your _sister_.' Ross waved the piece of paper in his face again, but Fitz just looked at him blankly.

'Simmons isn't my sister.' He muttered finally taking the notes from Riley.

'Oh. _Oh_. We all just assumed, I mean, you have the same name, and, you just, well, actually that does explain a few things.' Reese ran a hand through his hair, 'Sorry dude. Just can you tell her that Chris needs to talk to her?'

_Chris,_ that was it. 'Sure.'

Fitz started to stride down the road again; if he wasn't home soon Simmons would have added Nutella to all of the pancakes with no room for negotiation.

_His sister?_ Where did Chris get that impression? They had different accents for goodness sake.

_Sister_. Wait until Simmons heard about this.

* * *

For Simmons' twenty-first birthday she managed to convince her parents to make their first trip to America. The week before they arrived had been a frantic cycle of cleaning, studying and shopping. This was going to be first time they were going to observe her new life, and as much as Fitz kept telling her not to worry, panic was swiftly becoming her default state.

Every time she went home to England, it was like she was a child again, having people cook and clean for her. But, this was the perfect opportunity for her parents to see how much she had actually grown up. She had her own apartment, _barely_ set the fire alarm off anymore and had a PhD and a half under her belt.

It was going to be wonderful. Or else.

She had just popped out for some more shampoo (in case either of her parents had a particular hatred for green apple) and returned to something horrific.

Fitz. Talking with her parents. Her worst nightmare.

She had planned her parents meeting Fitz down to the second. At no point should they have had the chance to talk alone, but here it was happening before her eyes. What if her parents were telling embarrassing stories? What if _Fitz_ was telling embarrassing stories?

Simmons cleared her throat loudly and they whipped around.

'Jemma!' Her mother squealed, running over to hug her. 'We were just talking about you!'

'What?' This couldn't be happening.

'Yep. Really fascinating.' Fitz grinned at her. She shot him her inquisitive look and he only grinned wider.

There was a moment of quiet; Simmons tried to have a telepathic communication with Fitz about _what exactly had happened_ and his smiling got smugger than she thought was possible, whilst her parents exchanged looks.

'You'd better get going.' Fitz reminded her, 'Your reservations are in an hour. And if you want to give your lovely parents a look round the city…'

Simmons grabbed her parents, still fuming, and turned back through the still open doorway. Time for step one on the 'look how collected my life is' tour.

'Are you sure you don't want to come Fitz?' Her mum asked twisting round.

'No, no, I have plans with left over Chinese and a 50 page report.'

Simmons opened her mouth.

'I know it's due tomorrow, Simmons, and yes I will let you read it before I send it in.'

Simmons closed her mouth.

They went to a Mexican restaurant that Simmons loved and Fitz hated.

'So. Fitz, or is it Leo? He's very nice isn't he?' Her parents had obviously discussed this beforehand, they kept glancing at each other, egging each other on.

'Yes. Fitz is very nice.'

'Very nice.' Her mum said absentmindedly. 'And, err, you are, what? Colleagues? Flatmates?'

'Friends. Best friends.'

'Right. Of course.'

Oh my god. They thought they were together, oh my god. Wait until Fitz heard about this.

* * *

Fitz's twenty-fourth birthday arrived in the middle of one of the worst snowstorms most people had ever seen. But Fitz wasn't most people, he was Scottish for goodness sake, and there was no way some wee snowflakes were going to stop him getting to his classes.

Simmons kept joking that his Scottish accent had gotten so strong over the past week that she could barely understand him.

The only real consequence was it meant they couldn't go anywhere on Fitz's birthday. Simmons had been disappointed until Fitz pointed out that they probably would have stayed in anyway.

To mark his birthday Simmons had given him a limited edition pair of Quidditch goggles, spent an hour with his mum on Skype whilst Fitz looked on horrified, and decided to bake a cake.

Simmons was usually more of a brownie or pancake making person, but since they couldn't go out and buy a cake like usual, as all the shops were closed, they were left the option of Simmons' baking.

Baking with Simmons was stressful. She stuck to the recipe like it was the law, and shouted at him when he tried vanilla essence too early. He eventually left her to it and went to go finish his new blueprint (with maybe a little of playing around with his new Quidditch goggles) until Simmons called him from the kitchen.

The cake was slightly lopsided, but the real problem was when he ate it. Fitz hardly managed to swallow and smile weakly at her.

'It's awful isn't it? I think I'm jinxed.' Simmons sighed. 'I'll make brownies.'

* * *

When Simmons turned twenty-four things between her and Fitz were a little frosty. They'd fought before, of course. You don't spend every day with someone for seven years without a few arguments.

But they'd been silly, trivial things. Fitz being untidy, which Spock was the best or the rule on bringing dead animals into the lab. More often than not, she would find Fitz at the waffle place two streets away from their apartment as they'd both had the same idea for a reconciliation gift.

This had had a different feel about it. They'd been offered an _incredible_ opportunity to work in the field, and she wasn't going to let Fitz pass it up. They'd shouted at each other for an hour or two, much longer than they usually did, because Fitz hated shouting. It had been horrible.

He relented in the end and although it's not how she ideally would have liked him to agree, they were still together, and they were actually going to be _doing _something.

Getting out of the lab. Meeting new people. Seeing the world.

It was going to be fantastic.

Fitz was still quiet. Usually her day was filled with his mindless chatter, but the last few days had been empty.

She found him in their lab, fiddling with one of the D.W.A.R.F.s.

Slumping into the seat next to him they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

'Just tell me nothing's going to change, Jemma.'

'We're Fitzsimmons, aren't we? Nothing can change that.'

* * *

On Fitz's seventeenth birthday, when he climbed into bed, despite being a year older (even if it was technically only a day), nothing seemed to have changed. Not yet.

* * *

**A/N:** So, here is the second (and final) part to this story. I have a lot to say so I'll try and keep it short. In this, Fitz's birthday is the 20th of Feb and Simmons' is on the 9th of April. The science jargon nearly killed me, I tried to keep it vague, and Taylor's series is taken from my brother's engineering homework. If anything is really wrong let me know. I own a pair of Quidditch goggles and they are awesome. I've swung from liking this to not liking this. I really love italics and rhetorical questions but probably use them too much. This is a different style to Part 1 and I'm not sure which one I prefer. I'm really, really not sure about the ending and I'm really worried its confusing. Again, with this is meant to be past tense but sorry for slip ups. And finally:

If you like it or hate it, prefer part 1 or part 2, think they're wildly out of character or think the dialogue is odd, if you think it could improved if...

Let me know in the reviews.


End file.
